Winner! Of the January/February 2015 round of N.A. First Peoples' Form Poetry Contest |
Thunder The sorrowful truth held in hand is spoken by a thirsty tongue. Seldom do storms soak this land which was fertile when we were young. Eagle feathers tell no lies soaring upon outstretched wings. The gritty vision held in our eyes is a sandstorm where heritage sings. Thirsty mother holds back her tear knowing the depth of this now drying well. People are facing a free flowing fear in a dust bowl of a now dying hell. Hoofbeats, like an ancient drum, have long since passed this way. A resounding tale told by only some, and in fewer, these sounds will stay. The changing earth is speaking as the seers can clearly hear. Hungry spirits are seeking healing of all that they hold dear. Thundering hooves are pounding as awakening hearts recall. Dark sky's deafening sounding must return or we all shall fall. Winner! Of the January/February 2015 round of "N.A. First Peoples' Form Poetry Contest" Line count: 24 lines Form: Traditional Rhyme Scheme ABAB Written for N.A. First Peoples' Form Poetry Contest Due 11:59pm WDC time 02/09/15 Picture Prompt:
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